


A Fate Is Still A Fate

by SeaOfBones



Series: Dimitri/f!Byleth Oneshots [3]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, Byleth is everyone's favourite, Dimitri is still incredibly embarassed about the Goddess Tower, Extremely Pining Dimitri, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Post-The Cause of Sorrow/Salvation at the Chapel, Pre-Relationship, Sad Cat House, grieving Byleth, most of my dimileth is fluff but I replayed That Scene and it made me have emotions, references to violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22132495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaOfBones/pseuds/SeaOfBones
Summary: Dimitri struggles with his own memories and grief as he and the Blue Lions accompany Byleth to Jeralt's funeral at the cathedral.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Series: Dimitri/f!Byleth Oneshots [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534364
Comments: 8
Kudos: 194





	A Fate Is Still A Fate

It had been less than a week since Dimitri had made that wish with Byleth at the Goddess Tower. The real wish, the wish worthy of being made by a leader, not the young man’s foolish request that a woman he was besotted with stay by his side. They were foolish promises he made, the ones that swore unbreaking bonds to the companions of his youth.

No, for his true wish, he had asked the Goddess that nobody they loved should be taken from them, even knowing it would be himself rather than the Goddess who would answer. And he had already failed to stop it from happening to Byleth, right in front of him.

Byleth had stopped the tears he'd seen her shedding, at least for the funeral. For as much as he understood her grief, imagining it a similar beast to his own, he'd known that the moments he'd shared with her in her father's study were no time for foolish proclamations, whether of affection or protection. That, and he doubted his word meant much anymore in that regard, considering how he had already failed to keep her only living family safe. It was to himself, then, that he would swear to stand by her side for as long as he could, a foolish burden she need not trouble herself over.

That clouded morning, Byleth wore no particular mourning garb. None of them did. The black, gold and silver of Garreg Mach's uniform were sombre enough. Dimitri had snatched off his blue cape, and Mercedes had discarded her pale shawl. The only person missing was Dedue, who felt, despite Dimitri's objections, that his presence would only cause trouble. Byleth's dark cloak hung heavy over her shoulders, and she stared gravely towards where Rhea stood at the front of the cathedral. Dimitri and the rest of her class sat by her on one side, with Manuela and the rest of her colleagues to the other, easily filling one half of the cathedral between them.

The rest was filled with what Dimitri assumed to be the gathered faithful – with only a few faces he recognised, from brief introductions at ceremonies.

“It is on this sad day that we come together to remember Jeralt Eisner,” Rhea said, bowing her head mournfully as she addressed the crowd. “One of the most decorated knights in the church's recent memory. Captain of the Knights of Seiros, awarded the Silver Wings of Valour for his part in quelling the 1150 rebellion of the Western Church, a defender of the faithful who laid down his life in protection of the students of the Officers' Academy.”

Felix scoffed quietly at that part, the honours and accomplishments. Byleth didn't stir. Felix probably wouldn't want to hear that Dimitri agreed with his sentiment. There was no glory in dying, no matter the cause. Jeralt hadn't laid his life down – he'd been assassinated after the battle was over. Glenn and Lambert had been spoken of in similar honour at their memorials, and Dimitri couldn't hear of them without flashes, the agonised faces of their severed heads, sudden and painful deaths like nothing from a knightly tale.

He hoped it was some comfort, to Byleth and Jeralt both, that they had been together in his last moments. They had been able to say goodbye. Perhaps, with that, the faces that haunted Byleth would at least be of his last living words, whatever they had been, crying or smiling.

“Jeralt is survived by his daughter, Byleth Eisner, who will now say a few words.” Rhea's eyes turned to Byleth, the starry crown that framed her head glinting in the cathedral's candlelight. Byleth stood stiffly and strode across the floor, all the emotion Dimitri had learned to recognise in her these past few months – her soft joy, her righteous anger, her trembling sorrow – smothered beneath her still face. Byleth felt more deeply than anyone recognised, but only when she let her mercenary’s guard down.

The other side of the cathedral filled with rustling, as the church's visitors strained to catch a glimpse of her. Dimitri felt a lash of anger towards them, these strangers who did not know Byleth and who likely knew Jeralt only by his reputation. Who had come for Rhea, for the ceremony of it all. But he knew that feeling was his anger, as much as he extended it on Byleth's behalf. It was for his own parents' funeral, standing as such a small child and having to greet and thank countless strangers, and people who he knew even at his young age had never particularly cared for the late King Lambert, as a monarch or as a man.

Rhea put her arm around Byleth's shoulder in comfort as she stepped up, and spoke quietly to her.

Dimitri had done the same, when he'd walked Byleth here from her quarters. Byleth had leant close to him, without words, and clasped him in a sorrowful embrace. He'd stroked her dark hair with his rough, gloved hands, and she'd pressed her forehead against his chest.

The last time they’d spoken at length before the day of her father’s death, he’d wounded her with his thoughtlessness. She'd seemed so hurt, when he had tried to save face at the Goddess Tower by telling her he only asked her to stay by her side as a joke. People usually seemed to find it amusing when Sylvain did that sort of thing. But he supposed Sylvain was truly joking, and he wasn't. But it hadn't been the time for those thoughts. He’d held her close, for as long as she needed, whyever it was that she needed it.

With Rhea's pale hand still gracing her shoulder, Byleth turned out towards the crowd, a dark figure against the bright and gold.

“I didn't know my father as a decorated figure,” she murmured. Though she spoke quietly, the acoustics of the cathedral brought her voice rustling through the crowd, a whisper against Dimitri's ear. He shivered. “I knew him as my father. A mercenary, a man.”

Her dark eyes turned towards the knights that sat behind Manuela, mouth pressed tight. Dimitri had caught a glimpse of Alois sobbing openly outside the cathedral as he'd guided Byleth inside, and even now he was barely holding his composure. Dimitri knew from what she’d said to him that there was some strange secrecy hanging between Byleth and Jeralt, but whatever those secrets were, Dimitri expected they weren’t for today, weren’t for this crowd.

“I didn't know he was so loved,” was all Byleth said. “Thank you.”

Though she didn't quite run, she hurried back to the pew, head down and eyes welling. Dimitri caught her as she threw herself down into her seat, and lifted his head to dissuade the peering glances of any intrusive onlookers.

“In such troubling and dangerous times, we must look to the Goddess for guidance,” Rhea continued. Arms, from all sides, reached to lay a comforting hand on Byleth. Manuela and Alois from the side of her fellow teachers and knights. Mercedes and Annette, as the closest, joining his own hands from the side of her students. Even Leonie, despite their arguments, clenched her tight fingers around Byleth's upper arm.

“As surely as the Goddess held Jeralt close to her heart,” Rhea murmured. “She holds each of her people in their times of need.”

Byleth lowered her head into her hands, and sank back into their grasping embrace. There was no cathedral, however well it carried words to the faithful, that would take their words to the Goddess' deaf ears. But Byleth had them. For as long as they could hold on to her.

Before the year was out, before he was taken to his royal duties, Dimitri would do all he could. Byleth Eisner would get whatever revenge she desired. And Dimitri’s already-bloodied hands would do what they were suited for – not to hold, not to be gentle or loving, but to rend and rip and break whatever they needed to for her to have that.

Rhea kept talking, and Dimitri kept waiting. As she finished the ceremony with a prayer and a lighting of candles, he knew how funerals were expected to end. When it came to leave, wander, linger. Byleth was meant to wait – as Dimitri, as Felix, had waited – to receive the sorrow, confession and commiserations of others as they left, a living receptacle for their feelings on the deceased.

The class had spoken of it. Though they could not scry into her grief, they would spare her the performance of pain that so many of them had endured. Ceremony was a comfort to some. But she was frozen to her seat. And her loyal students would spare her the obligation Dimitri himself would have begged to be freed from, had it not been his prince's duty.

“You don't need to do anymore of this,” Dimitri whispered. “Come with us. We're having our own memorial in the classroom.” He glanced back to Felix. He met Dimitri's eyes, for once without hatred. “I can't promise it will be less painful. But you won't have to stand on ceremony around us.”

Despite everything, Byleth smiled. Byleth nodded. And only on her signal, Felix got to his feet, followed by the rest of their class.

“I'll make your excuses,” Manuela said, giving Dimitri a trusting glance and Byleth a friendly wink. “You’re ill.”

The Blue Lions moved as one, without squabbling or posturing, as they only otherwise did under Byleth’s command. A tight formation to shield her from onlookers, as they led her out of the cathedral's side door. Dimitri had made arrangements, tersely with Edelgard and surprisingly enthusiastically with Claude, to provide a distraction should Byleth wish to leave. Dimitri was mildly concerned about exactly what the future Duke Riegan was planning, but it was nothing compared to his gratitude.

“Dedue is waiting for us,” Dimitri said to his silent mentor, faltering as always to grasp at smalltalk as they snuck around the cathedral's vast walls. “He thought you might be hungry. I promise that we will clean up any mess in the classroom before our next lesson.”

Byleth laughed, even though he hadn't been joking. He smiled at her mirth, at his own awkwardness. He supposed it _was_ funny. That would be the last thing on her mind at the moment, the cleanliness of her classroom.

Hilda and Marianne, of all people, stood at the bridge to see them past without interruptions. Hilda chattered in distraction to a merchant who was clearly trying to pass her, and Marianne inclined her head gently as they walked by.

The rest of Garreg Mach was mercifully empty by comparison. A bare scattering of soldiers at crossroads and entrances. The classroom smelled of warmth and spice as they approached, all Dedue's work, and Dimitri led Byleth and the others through the door.

Dedue didn't smile, or say anything. But as Dimitri took his hands from Byleth's shoulders and nudged her onwards, they shared a nod of silent understanding.

Although Dimitri didn’t want to crowd her, he didn’t want to stray far. He wanted to be close, in case she needed him. So many of them had lost someone that they poured what they had wished others had done for them into sharing her grief.

Ashe, still raw from his own loss, simply took her hands, and said some quiet words. Mercedes and Annette fussed, and laid out sweets. Ingrid, Felix and Sylvain stood aside, keeping their distance until Byleth approached them with thanks. And Dimitri, hesitantly, joined them.

“There are no words that will make this right,” Dimitri said quietly, as much to his friends, to all of them, as to Byleth. No knightly platitudes would take away what he, Felix and Ingrid had gone through. No talk of justice would scrub the undeserved pain from Dedue, Sylvain or Ashe. “But we, all of us, are here for you.”

Byleth lifted her head, and pinned Dimitri's heart with the softness of her gaze. “Thank you,” was all she said. “Dimitri, all of you.”

Dimitri gave a rigid smile, and a formal bow, as her eyes followed his face. And then cast her thankful gaze around the room. To all of her students, loyal and adoring. Wherever they scattered to after this year was over, whatever divided them, they would be bound in this love and sorrow.

And Dimitri knew, from her quiet surprise. Byleth didn't know that she was so loved. It would be foolish to tell her about his own embarrassing feelings, the ones Sylvain and Ingrid teased him about, not when he knew he could make no promises. But that other kind of love, the kind they all shared for her – for as long as they still had her, they would let her know.


End file.
